Jack’s arms wrap around her as she collides against him.

‘Thank God,’ she whispers.

He holds her tight, her cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on her head. He does not speak.

Eventually she pushes herself free. ‘What happened? What did they say? You weren’t arrested?’

‘No … no … I was just “helping with enquiries”, but they made it clear they’ve not finished with me yet.’

‘Ted thinks one of the threshing team said something.’

‘Aye, I reckon they did. He wanted to know everything about that day – what had led up to me saying what I did.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘That he nearly killed Tom, riding that bloody bike of his, and I was justified in losing my rag. I did wonder whether Ted had said anything.’

‘I’m sure he would never say anything to get you into trouble. He was as shocked as I was that they’d taken you in. He’s eating with us tonight … I didn’t know if you’d be back and I couldn’t face worrying alone.’

She stares at her boots, suddenly gauche.

‘I’m here now, lass,’ he murmurs, laying a light hand on her arm.

She summons a smile. ‘Yes … yes you are.’ She turns away quickly to hide the telling build of her emotion. ‘And in perfect time for dinner.’

‘Aye, I’m starving,’ he says, his tone lightening to match her own, and as she lifts her eyes to his, he offers her a tentative smile. He tips his head towards the house. ‘Let’s go in,’ he says, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. Gwen nods, blinking back her tears.

Muriel greets his arrival with similar relief. She lets out a cry and dashes across the kitchen to hug him.

‘You look worn out, love.’

‘Aye, it’s been a long day, somehow.’

‘You’re home now, that’s all that matters,’ she says firmly.

‘Daddy!’

Tom barrels into his legs from the hall door. Jack throws him up into his arms, cupping the boy’s head as Tom clings to him like a monkey. Gwen is forced to turn away as Jack’s eyes close and his weary expression eases into one of contentment. Claiming to have a splinter in her finger she scurries upstairs on the pretence of its removal. Shutting her door, she sinks onto her bed, as she tries to decipher the unfamiliar feelings that now consume her. She stays there until she hears Muriel’s insistent cry that dinner is ready.

She is surprised to discover that Ted has yet to arrive.

‘He definitely said he was coming?’ Muriel asks, glancing at the clock.

‘Yes … I’m sure of it.’

‘Well, I can’t wait much longer, it’ll spoil. I’ll make up a plate for him and leave it in the oven to keep warm.’

But an hour later the dinner is still in the oven, dried out and ruined.